


What a Team!

by rosefox



Category: A League of Their Own (1992)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21157319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosefox/pseuds/rosefox
Summary: Dottie pushes Jimmy into helping the team cope with the objectifying newsreel.





	What a Team!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elegantstupidity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/gifts).

She hates the newsreel. 

It's been months since they filmed it and Dottie's forgotten just how bad it was, the cameras panning over them like the eyes of leering men, the director who made them stand and run and throw in ridiculous ways. She can feel her lip curling. 

In the seat to her left, Jimmy is chewing scornfully on a wad of tobacco. She elbows him and whispers, "Don't spit on the floor."

"I'll shpit where I want," he whispers back around the chaw.

"You're disgusting, Jimmy." When did she start calling him Jimmy? She needs to keep a polite distance. She's a married woman who loves her husband. And Jimmy—Mr. Dugan is a boorish drunk.

"That'sh what girlsh like," he says. 

She rolls her eyes and stares at the screen, where Kit has just been described as "as single as they come." Kit, who's sitting on her right, slides down in her seat, groaning and covering her face with her hands.

When the newsreel snubs Marla, everyone freezes, staring, and then the angry whispers start. They get louder and louder, like a field full of crickets, until Mr. Dugan spits on the floor and snaps, "Shut it, girls. I paid to see this picture, not to listen to your chatter."

Dottie wonders whether her teeth are sharp enough to tear his throat out. In the sullen silence of the team, she can hear Marla sniffling at the end of the row. Forget being polite; she'll call him Jimmy now, like he's a child, because he acts like one.

The feature's not bad, but as soon as she steps out of the theater she forgets everything about it. In the lobby's bright light, the team's uniforms look garish. Everyone except Jimmy clusters around Marla, reassuring her. He leans on the wall, arms folded and face scowling, like everything about women having feelings is a personal offense to him.

Dottie isn't a big one for showing her feelings either, if she's being honest, but she knows to take her turn giving Marla a hug and saying something quiet and comforting, like she does for Kit after every heartbreak. Then she makes her way out of the crowd and goes over to Jimmy. "Hey," she says. "You need to say something. Tell her some stupid newsreel doesn't matter. Tell her she's a part of the team."

"You managing my team for me again?"

She stares him down. "Yep."

He groans, lifts his cap, and rubs the top of his head. "Fine, ball-buster. Hey! Maria—"

"_Marla_," Dottie stage-whispers. Her teeth, his throat, a perfect marriage.

"Marla. Listen, you're..." He rubs his head again. "You're a hell of a ballplayer, all right? You're a goddamn _Peach_." Marla cringes slightly. "Sorry, sorry, gotta watch my language around you girls. But I know you're not some fainting flower. You're tough. You're tougher than some f—some dirtbag who decided all that matters about a girl is her t—is if she's pretty." He huffs. "Who cares whether you're a looker? You're a hitter."

It's not what Dottie would have said. But at least he remembered Marla can hit.

Marla stands a little straighter as the girls, recognizing this is the best they're going to get out of Jimmy, chime in with "That's right" and "You show 'em, Marla." Mae passes her a handkerchief and she scrubs her face with it.

"Come on," Jimmy says. "The bus is waiting. We're gonna get our beauty sleep tonight and then tomorrow you're gonna hit one over the fence."

Dottie hangs back as her teammates file out the door. "Thanks," she says.

"Don't mention it." He glances at her. "I mean it. Don't tell anyone Jimmy Dugan's getting soft."

She can't help herself. She looks down at his little paunch and then up at his face, smirking.

"Oh, shut up, Hinson."

"You remembered my name," she says, genuinely surprised and pleased.

"I gotta know who to curse at night, don't I? Get on the bus, girlie."

As the last one on, she ends up sitting next to him. She doesn't mind. He smells less like gin than usual. He eyes her and she eyes him back, a challenge. He grunts, pulls his cap over his face, and leans against the window to doze as though they're off on a journey of a hundred miles rather than driving the fifteen minutes back to the boarding house.

_All right,_ she thinks. _This is better. I can work with this._

Last one on, first one off, and this time he hangs back, letting the girls file out past him. Dottie lets him make the space, but she takes her time talking with Kit in the foyer as the Peaches scatter to their rooms, and Kit's just leaving when Jimmy meanders in. He gives Dottie a look like he thinks she's going to be more trouble, or maybe like he wants her to be a different sort of trouble. She smiles at him, just a little.

"Goodnight, Jimmy," she says, and before he can reply, she turns her back and follows Kit up the stairs.


End file.
